#I forgot where this was initially going

[quodekash]

TW: mentions of death and stuff but it’s not too morbid/detailed, but like dead bodies are mentioned.

What happens when Emily and Mitch eventually find Julie’s YouTube or smth. Like. They just see their dead son. Singing with the girl who gave his song to them a few weeks back. And they’re in the place he ran away to. And he’s just right there. 

What would they do? 

I think they’d be amazed and devastated and a little angry, cos the natural assumption (especially with him being at the house he literally ran away to) would be that he never left, his spirit just went to - what they would assume is - the only place he ever felt truly at home. 

If that were me, I’d feel pretty horrible/angry that he never came to visit or give me a sign that he was (kind of) okay, and he just fully ignored me. And I know he didn’t actually ignore them, he just wasn’t around at al for 25 years, but they wouldn’t know that and I wish we could have a season 2 for them to explore the angst and feels and stuff around that situation. 

Adding on to that, possibly the way that they’d find out is through Bobby. He’d see they’re all somehow still alive in a way, and he’d tell anyone he could that would listen to him. Including the devastated parents of the kids he was in a band with. 

I’d also just like to add here that Bobby would’ve been pretty gosh darn traumatised by the events. Like any normal person who’s in a band with three of their closest friends and then they find out all three of them literally died and now they’re completely alone? They’d be pretty traumatised. He mentions to Carrie at one point “I’m gonna go see my therapist”, and it makes sense that he’d have a therapist, cos three of his friends literally died when they were all teenagers. 

I also think that Bobby would’ve been one of the first people to discover they’re dead. Like either it would be those random people in the background at the start, or the hot dog vendor guy, who would realise these kids are dying and call the ambulance, in which case Bobby probably wouldn’t be notified (cos he wasn’t with them at all) until he’d come outside eventually to tell them they’re on in five or smth and either find no one there at all, or find an ambulance speeding away, or see a bunch of paramedics lifting his friends’ bodies into an ambulance. Orrr he would go outside to find them, and then he himself - a flipping 16-18 year old, a literal teenager, minor, child - sees them asleep and tries to wake them up and nothing happens and he checks their pulses and fear grips his chest and he grabs out his phone (under the assumption that the garage/house is his family’s, and it’s a really nice house, so the conclusion there is that is his family is pretty rich, so I’d assume he’d have a phone with him) and calls emergency services, and that’s the last time he ever sees his friends. 

And then the guys go and haunt him, and he’s probably already been haunted by memories and the thought of their still, lifeless bodies, without the help of actually being genuinely haunted. 

And yeah, it was rly messed up that he stole their songs and gave no credit - or even mentioned them to Julie or rose or even Carrie. But also the guys doing that is messed up. It’s no wonder he never gave them credit or mentioned them to anyone, cos doing that would presumably awaken bad memories inside him, which he very much would not want. Poor guy is bloody traumatised. And carrie basically not reacting at all to her dad going to see his therapist implies that he sees his therapist a lot, probably frequently like once a week, so not only is he traumatised but he’s getting constant therapy for it and still needs more. And yeah, it’s possible those are just regular checkups cos everyone should get therapy whether they’re in a bad place or not, but the fact that he was clearly verbally and visibly distressed, and Carrie still doesn’t react, implies that he might have episodes a lot where he remembers the guys or thinks about them or whatever. 

AND ALSO HE DOES MEDITATION, which could be a coping technique from his therapist, or a way for him to clear his mind and thoughts. 

Whatever happened right after the guys died, whoever it was to find their bodies, it would be bloody traumatising for a group of four to suddenly be a group of one. He’d need extensive therapy and help for that, he’d be very much not okay, anyone in his shoes would be very much not okay. 

He might’ve contacted his friends’ families immediately, to tell them what happened, cos the guys didn’t like their parents at all. Reggie’s we’re right about to divorce. Luke’s didn’t want him in the band. Alex’s were homophobic. They all probably escaped from all of that every single day by going to Bobby’s house, to the one place where they could all be themselves without hate. So not only would it be horrifying to have a suddenly empty garage every day, for your friends to no longer be there, to know that they’ll never come back, Bobby would also probably have possessions from all of them, and no one other than Bobby would be able to give those to their families. Not only that, they probably wouldn’t even know for a while, because of how much their kids hated them. It’s possible they didn’t know for literally days, and they just assumed that their kids were staying overnight at Bobby’s. They wouldn’t think to contact their kids, or their kids’ friends and friends’ families, they’d just assume they’re okay. It was probably Bobby who had to break the news to all of them. So there’s some extra trauma and horrible-feelings piled on top of that. And he’d break the news to them as well as probably give them some things to remind their parents of their kids or something. Imagine an entire fic or episode or something based on Bobby’s experiences after the guys died. 

He’d go to Reggie’s place, interrupting a fight between his parents. He’d tell them their son is dead. He’d give them Reggie’s favourite pick or something. Reggie may be a mess, but something tells me he doesn’t leave his stuff lying around, like both physical objects and real things. He probably always thought he could just internalise it all, make it into jokes, not go into detail about how much his parents’ fights affect him and how scary it is, how he has to shield his younger siblings when he’s at home, to try and keep them safe and happy. Same with physical things: he would seem like the kind of person to forget to clean up after himself, who would leave it all lying around. But he keeps it clean, cos if he can’t clean out his mind and his own house, can’t get rid of the fighting, he might as well get rid of the things he could, take control of what he could. So he probably wouldn’t leave much lying around the garage, wouldn’t even own that much stuff to leave around the garage. He’d give it to Reggie’s parents and they would fight more, saying that it’s his fault Reggie died no it’s her fault and the other kids would cowed behind a corner and Bobby would hug the kids, try to protect them how Reggie used to, but knowing there’s no use. 

He’d go to Luke’s house, tell them their son is dead. They’d cry, they’d scream. Emily would be sure it’s her fault. Mitch would break down and fall to his knees. Bobby would stand there, unsure what to do. 

He’d go to Alex’s house. He’d hesitate at the door, not wanting to interact with these horrible people. Then he’d knock. He’d tell them the horrible news. He’d say he’s sorry. He’d say he wishes Alex could still be alive. Alex’s dad would stare at him menacingly. Alex’s dad would say “serves him right, doing the devils work”. Bobby would fill with anger. Alex’s mum would say “I’d feel sorry if he could’ve brought us a girlfriend rather than that boy. And a rebellious boy at that, he ran away from home to be in your little band.” Bobby would crack, the rage spilling over. He’d yell at them, scream at them, say they’re horrible parents, they didn’t deserve a beautiful amazing child like alex, that it wasn’t his choice, that they should be at least a little bit sad that their only child is gone, that someone they raised is gone from the world and he was only 17, that they could’ve had an ounce of respect or kindness in them to make alex actually feel like a person. He’d take a small pride flag out of his pocket, the one Alex left behind, shove it in their faces and say that everyone is a person. He’d storm away, going back to his home. He’d hang up the pride flag in his room, bright, proud, loud. He’d fall to the floor, crying, lost, terrified. He’d be horrified that someone can hate another person because of who they love, even when that person is their child, the literal result of their love, and they hate him because of love. He’d reflect on hate and love, two very different but very similar things, how they intertwine with one another, like some messed up but beautiful and entrancing dance. 

[jade-of-mourning]

been writing again. i miss writing for fun aha. pain why is this guy so repressed and fucked up.

this one's about lightning n plants n blah blah symbolism stuff and i stopped writing it over two years ago but now i'm back ig. mako is having a terrible time post-canon and it's great! (for me) i dumped out some stuff that i find unusable and am hoping the rest holds up to a reasonable extent

[fadefromthelight]

It’s that time of the year again! Mermay!

This year my Initial D boys get to be my subjects lol

[skrs-cats]

yea!! not to spoil too much but it focuses on her grieving and finding friendship in dove who shes only just really met as it takes place after tigerhearts se and fills the gap before tbc begins, its sweet sometimes the novellas really hit sometimes they dont i have a friend who skips them completely and i dont get it they add so much NIGHTSTAR MY BELOVED </3 i first read about him in yellowfangs se and thought damn i wish i could read more about him and then his manga came out and i was so happy lol, hoping we get cannon merch of him someday i love how hes written, gonna make a note to make fanart of him aha, unfortunate how he was treated but it feels like it shapes who he is i suppose ohh that makes so much more sense now i thought i was just loosing touch with the fandom and not being able to keep up with names, i was never rly good at it. 💀 i was talking about that with a friend recently too tpb used to repeat backstory about characters so much that it became frustrating but the newer books cut back on it and now when they introduce a character you have to really sit and remember it because they arent explaining it EVER again yaaa!!! u get it lol i started reading other YA series i never read as a kid and thought id reread wcs with a friend for the hell of it (and cause i had so many of the books i never got to) and it was great but as soon as i got to new stuff id never read before it kinda lost its charm and i took a break, sometimes you just arent feeling it, tho the longer you wait the more there is to read when you come back to it who knows maybe holly will be back from the dead again or we will get a jay, holly or lion se, were getting an ivy one after all and theres holly and jay content in the bonus scene for tbc 1

that sounds so sweet ToT SOMEDAY ILL FIND THE TIME TO READ AND REREAD THESE NOVELLAS ive forgotten most of them LMFAO. i think the ones i remember most are hollyleaf's, leafpool's, goosefeather's and dovewings which is.. wow. i def dont have a preference

and yes ur def right that the way nightstar was treated added to how he is generally perceived and his character, it kinda reminds me of mudclaw too! (whos manga i have also still Yet to read rip) i feel bad for them both but their unfortunate circumstances are what makes them such interesting characters T-T

i feel like we are old men yelling at the clouds but in a GOOD WAY HAHAHAHA im glad that despite it, we are talking about the series either way so i guess that means we still feel quite passionate about it, whether in positive or negative manner lmaooo

i think whats stopping me from continuing in reading the new books is that i want to reread it from the very start first, so i am very much stuck in my own way khkjahkljf tbh though whenever i see snippets of the new books in socials i actually find them very interesting! but i def also had moments where i just grew tired and felt like getting away from it all. i am praying so fucking hard for more og po3 content i miss them SO damn MUCH WAHHHHHH

speaking of the bonus scenes, a few weeks back i found out i completely forgot they happened! MORE SPECIFICALLY W HOLLYLEAF, WHAT. I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST W JAYFEATHER AND HIM GRIEVING FOR LEAFPOOL. YOURE TELLING ME THERE WAS HOLLY CONTENT TOO??? what the fuck is my brain doing forgetting this information what the hell im such a fake fan TTTTTTOTTTTT

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

(first sentence meme)

Now he wasn't saying the place was haunted, but he definitely wasn't not saying it, either.

(fandom and character/au of choice!)

(y'know it's been a minute since i did anything msa... and per usual i'm absolute dogshit at sticking to that sentence limit. honestly i forgot it even existed this time) (src - still open!)

It wasn't just the age—though it was old—but old places weren't inherently haunted, in Arthur's opinion. Sure, every place tended to acquire a sort of... flavor, over time, as they were lived in, but sometimes that vibe was calm. Peaceful.

This place was—not. It was not that, even if Vivi apparently couldn't feel it. It had an almost oppressive air of anger to it, low and simmering, like the old walls were glaring daggers down at them. And it felt... there was this nagging in the back of his head, like something he was forgetting that he should have remembered. Something important about this place. That meant something.

Per usual, though, his vocal complaints were being ignored—until they came to a bigger room. It might have been some kind of theater, once, or a performance hall, or—

Any speculation was cut short when the centerpiece of the room—sparked, immediately making everything else a distantly secondary concern. That feeling of hatred spiked with it, too, sending his heart rate instantly through the roof—and seriously, if Vivi thought he was still making shit up now—

"You've got a lot of nerve, K," a voice echoed around the vast room, "waltzing back in here like nothing's wrong."

The fire—the fire that radiated an entire spectrum of warm colors, edging into a magenta that couldn't be anything natural—coalesced into a form that was starting to look almost—human.

"Your expression says you maybe haven't remembered me yet," it—he says. "That's fine."

He waves one hand, and a whip of fire whirls around the edge of the room, making doors that definitely weren't there before all slam in an almost rhythmic thunk-thunk-thunk.

A pair of neon-white eyes glare like they're trying to burn holes through his skull. It feels almost like they're succeeding.

"I'm more than happy to help remind you."

[the-golden-ghost]

I really gotta now go from “Jevil Gets A Roommate!” to “Jevil and his new roommate try to Fucking Kill Each Other”

[thingsimscaredtosayonmain]

hi, I saw a post on my dash like five minutes ago that was talking about nudity in a nonsexual context and etc. And it was one of those posts that really reminded me why I love the internet. I get to see and hear from so many different people!

like, for context, I grew up in a very conservative, very religious setting, and have been abused. So because of all of those things combined whenever anyone even remotely mentions sex or nudity my brain immediately goes "dangerdangerdanger" It's not a mindset I want to have, but it's one that's been forged out of trauma and toxic upbringings. The point is that because of the wonders of the internet I got to see a post that goes against a harmful mindset I have and reminded me not only to check it, but to be more aware of it in the future. It forced me to realize that my morals (is that the correct word?) of "children shouldn't be hurt" and "being a puritan about everything is not good and Actively Dangerous" are not ideas that need to compete but rather coexist.

[tarjapearce]

Dr. Michael Stone

Mad Scientist variant! Miguel O'Hara x Spider!f! Reader

art by @Spiderthingcoo on X

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Smut, Breeding Kink, Mild dub-con, Oral sex (F receiving), possessive behaviors, rough electroplay, Questionable morals, Dark Miguel, manhandling, yandere scientist (I guess?) P in V, isolation, edging, female anatomy, Nipple play, dumbification, Michael Stone is a walking redflag. No proofread, objectification, power play.

Summary: From all the variants of Miguel you could've encountered, you met him.

A|N: Inspired by @Spiderthingcoo and Halloween ✨

Pt. 2

Clink

The sound repetitive and echoing in your hazy mind, luring you out of the slumber you had been forced to. Eyes heavy with something you couldn't quite pinpoint.

A sharp inhale gave you enough courage to part your lids enough to reckon your surroundings. Blurry and wet eyesight slowly came into a focus and clear view of where you were. A lab.

How had you ended up here? Where was Miguel? Why wasn't Lyla making fun of your passing?

The explosion, of course.

A weakened groan escaped past dry and chapped lips, while your mind tried to recollect and organize the memories it created before  going on a blackout.

The mission was simple, try and track the anomaly. Rhino. But the villian wasn't up for dialogue and had sent you flying against a wall, damaging your watch. Miguel had promised to fix it once you were back at HQ.

But the damage had been severe enough to not only electrocute you, but to cause an explosion within the already open portal. A boom powerful enough to throw you out of the current timeline and swallow you into another one, much to Miguel's distress. And then, nothing.

Pure black darkness.

Pristine white walls elegantly dressed with technology you had never seen before. The machine whirrings and hummings kept your eyes wandering from one extreme to another, trying to find anything that would be out of place. To your dismay, nothing indicated to be in such state.

Except for one thing.

Sitting in a simple chair, was a man clad in white, blending in with his environment. If it wasn't for his titanium rimmed glasses and their reflection, his tan skin and a very familiar looking face, he'd go undetected under your radar.

But your ever trusting spider senses alerted you of his presence. His red eyes bore into you, stalking, awaiting; preying. Impassiveness and stoicism plastered on his beautiful face.

A glacial chill ran down your spine.

"M-Miguel?" You rasped in the admist of your drowsiness

The man's eye glinted, dangerous and curious as he stood. His hair wavy and silky, graciously slicked back, His smirk deepened as he walked right before you, watching you with such marvel it made your breath hitch.

"Michael." The Boss' doppelganger corrected.

A stupor spreaded through your legs. Your arms had gone numb long ago. Another late realization as you looked at your limbs, expanded and trapped in the metal contraption, like a crucifix. Your legs remained separated, toes barely touching the floor and completely bare before him.

Panic rose as he placed a white gloved and immaculate hand on your cheek. Miguel was always speaking about the variants of the villains that he often forgot to mention about his own.

This one in particular was one to be extremely wary of. Dr. Michael Stone, acknowledged son of Tyler Stone, the CEO of Alchemax. A scientist obsessed with the spider DNA his team had recollected many years ago.

"Dr. Michael Stone, Mike for the friends."

He cupped your face and kissed you deeply. Tongue sweeping on your trembling mouth, taking a taste of you. He let you go with an appreciative hum. His thumbs pressed on your now glistening lips to pry them open, taking a glance on your teeth. Your breath fanned his face as he explored your mouth with his thumbs initially.

"Healthy breath and teeth, no fangs, sadly" the doctor mumbled to himself while catching your tongue in between his thumb and index finger, pulling it enough to examinate it's length.

You whimpered at the pain. Saliva escaping your mouth, which he collected quickly in a little glass vial. His fingers typed in the data in a holo-pad that materialized next to him.

His face was deranged, a soft blush crept on his sharp cheeks. He had stumbled upon a gold mine.

The drowsiness had left your body entirely, fear and nausea replacing it. Modesty or shame weren't in Michael's vocabulary. Nipples perked at the cool air that invaded the lab.

He brought a little table with several pieces of something he had been tinkering with.

"Your little contraption seems something too advanced for people in your world. Sadly the damage is too great to salvage something."

He displayed the now burnt pieces of the watch, pieces you supposed were the core of its functioning.

"For how long have you been a mutant?"

"Years." Voice meek, he nodded as he kept typing away, without looking much your direction, too deep in the screen and the data displaying on it.

"Is there any others like me?"

You gulped. Your brief silence had been enough answer for him.

"I see." His grin turned into a devious chuckle, "I suppose there is one of me that is like you, isn't it?"

Upon hearing no answer of you, he pressed a button, where a sudden electricity jolt coursed through your body. Earning him a pained yelp from you.

"I don't appreciate your silence, cariño. Now, when was the last time your period came?"

Your body lingered in unpleasant waves of the shocking aftermath. Soft breaths turned into short and shallow pants, anger rising again.

"I don't remember" You admitted curtly and uncomfortable by the direction the interrogation was taking course.

"Have you had children before?"

The question made you blink stupidly at him while sneered at your reaction and cleared his throat. Keeping at bay the ominous thoughts already forming in his wicked brain.

"N-No." You mumbled and his lips pursed in a wolfish grin it sent an ill feeling through your chest. Your brain's danger alarms flared, begging you to run away as fast as you could. But how such thing would be achieved when you were nearly T qposing, naked, before a man that had everything but good intentions with you.

"There's always a first." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. The hidden promise in his words had you struggling against your prison but it stopped as he sent another electric jolt through your body.

You groaned both painfully and annoyed in between raged pants.

"Let me go! " He could only cackle at your waning order.

"But why would I do such thing, cariño?" His fingers tracing the slope of your jaw, "Not when I have found the perfect vessel for my lineage to develop."

Heart thumped wildly on your chest, threatening to escape up your throat.

"P-Please, let me go."

Something dern recoiled in his eyes, pleading was futile, even though he loved the way you pronounced such words.

"Can't do. In fact, I think production should start right away."

He beamed and your heart sunk. Hopefully Miguel caught your signal before the gizmo was broken for good. Attention snapping on a pair of eyes that danced around your body. He licked his lips while loosening his tie. His glasses were removed.

Your chest heaved with anxiety, but he kneeled before you, pushing your outer folds away to reach the forbidden prize he was set in devouring, your clit. It twitched and contracted when his thumb stroked it softly. Michael didn't waste time and sunk himself between your thighs.

"N-No!" You panted while trying to squeeze his head away from your thighs, but his grip was steely. His tongue assaulted your cunt with such intensity it had you clenching your jaw and panting within seconds.

Strong and moist muscle dribbled down your pussy, teasing around your quivering hole. His plump lips captured your little nub of nerves in between them, to then apply pressure within strong sucking motions. Your hips bucked, nearly melting at the powerful sensations the scientist dragged you to.

The slick of your labia increased making his motions smoother, vicious and wet. You could feel him resting his head on your lower belly as his mouth ate you like a starved man. A lap here, a dribbling up and down there and it had your mouth gaping open.

"Fuck" You tried to lurch forward but the upper restrictions on your limbs could only allow much movement. Your head heavy with lust blown and fearful thoughts, making it loll side to side, shaking off the pleasure that crawled all the way up, trying to fog your judgment completely.

The goal however was accomplished when his tongue delved in your hole, fucking it with such expertise it had your breath slurred and blown from your lungs.

His moist muscle curled, coiled and slurped at your cunt. Twirling and gathering your juices in his mouth. As dangerous as he was, Michael seemed a connoisseur of the female anatomy. And he ate like a starved man, like his life and investigation depended on it.

Your head was thrown back, just like your eyes in their sockets. Breaths turned erratic when his hands squeezed the round of your breast. Maneuvering your perky nipples a little too rough. He pinched, pulled and slapped them, matching the merciless pace of his assailant lips.

Teeth ground together, jaw clenched and trapping in the moans he rightfully had earned. Your hands managed to fist in the admist of the numbness they had been subdued to.

His tongue ventured deeper with moist and gulping movements, the tip of his nose buried in your pubic mound, keeping you in place from squirming too much, chasing that relief that would bring you a bit of peace to your tortured cunt. Heat pooled in his mouth, pressure tightening, edging you to an endless and dangerous spiral of tempting corruption.

A strangled whine came off your throat as he stopped and looked up at you. Darkened pupils wide, absorbing the red iris upon the sight of you.

Perfect, beatific even.

You were the perfect vessel for him. Lips flushed in need, exhaling the stimulation out of your system. A rapturous expression on your face, like a virgin that had been worshipped, and he was the chosen one to corrupt such grimace. His tie was removed completely and tossed somewhere.

With a tap of the holo-pad, your restrains were loosened, and you fell on the floor with a thud. A little groan as your body made contact with the cold tiles, blood rushing back to your limbs, leaving a prickling sensation all the way down your hands, awakening them.

As much as you hated to admit that you had enjoyed it, the rational side of you took control again, urging you to an attempt of escape while you crawled on your fours. Your suit had been discarded on one of the trash bins.

A strong hand grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you towards him, wobbly and feeble legs trembled at the forced attempt of standing up, only for your torso to be slammed against a nearby metal table. Air knocking out of your lungs with a 'oomph'

"You are going nowhere."

Despite the overall nerd-ish look, he was strong. Strong and big enough to pin your arms effortlessly before you, to then place a pair of metallic hoops on your wrist that instantly adhered at the table. Magnetic handcuffs, of course.

Breast flattened against the metal, unruly strands of hair obscured your sight, his agitated breath fanning over the crook of your neck. Rear was positioned in the perfect pose to expose both your holes. Pussy glistening with a mix of his saliva and your own slick.

"Marvelous. We are about to create the Opus Magna of my investigation. Aren't you excited, bonita?"

Your ears perked ominously at the unbuckling and fumbling of his pants.

"You have no idea how long I've awaited for a chance like this." His flushed tip rubbed between your folds, coating himself before aligning to your drenched hole. He tittered while taking a vice like grip on your hips and with a sudden motion, he buried inch by inch inside your gummy and sticky walls.

"Miguel!" You cried as he sheathed to the hilt, stretching you a bit past your limits. Fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled back with force. Granting him a pathetic yelp from you.

"Michael." He growled into your ear, "I am no bound by weaknesses unlike that defective copy of mines. But don't you worry..."

His tone venomous, "I'll make you learn my name one way or another." He slid a hand around your neck and squeezed a whimper out of you, "You're here to stay after all."

Callous fingers slid back to your hips, groping and grounding himself before he pushed in. A strangled moan came before air was cut short again by his firm and deep thrusting, allowing you to adjust enough to his girth. It was scary how perfect he fit inside, reinforcing his belief you were made specially for him and the explosion had been the catalyst for his plan to build a superior form of being, set in track.

Not only had he been granted a subject he had been chasing for nearly a decade, but now, he couldn't just study you, but also impregnate you. And what a better coincidence when you were reaching your most fertile days. Or so the data had dictated, and data didn't lie.

"With me." A deep cackle erupted from his mouth as an onslaught of merciless thrust were delivered between your supple and plump glutes, making them jiggle at his rutting.

A garbled and shaky moan escaped your lips, eyes wide at the core shaking pace he had settled. Toes curled and your hands fisted against the metallic handcuffs, trying to anchor yourself once more to something as the table creaked violently underneath both. The pressure on your clit increased as his balls slapped it, sending jolts through your body.

Your cunt received him with an obsence slurp, swallowing him whole over and over, hole moulded to his thick shaft, leaving you empty every time he slid out, only to be refilled impossibly deep with a pitiless plow.

You were a mewling and wailing mess underneath his formidable frame. Torso rock hard, just like the throbbing cock inside your snug and drenched pussy.

The room and you were the only witnesses of his borderline animalistic growls and snarls, set into his goal to fill you to the brim the times he saw it fit. After all, no experiment was successful without trial and error.

All you could hear was the rough slapping of your flesh melding together in a rough display of power where he indisputably had the upper hand.

Fire licked at every inch of your skin, tears prickled at the corner of your eyes, blurring your sight with overstimulation. He gave you no time to properly breath, too lost in wrecking your cunt to care, enraptured in the thrill your flesh offered him.

A firm slap on your jiggling ass granted him a choked wail, one of the few indicators you still remained conscious and holding it together. He frowned.

It wasn't enough, he wanted nothing more than your ruin. Having you subdued to him, both in mind and body. Stubborn nature couldn't just leave you fucked physically. The need to possess you in all it's wholeness took over him. You'd be his, and if he had to face his counterpart to keep you by his side, then so be it.

Michael stilled for a moment, giving you precious seconds to catch a much needed breath. He removed the lab coat and shirt, exposing his sweaty and well sculpted torso. Your legs trembled, your brain buzzed with all sort of sensations, the metal fogged with every deep breath you gave against it, if it wasn't for the restrains in your wrist, you'd certainly be on the floor, since your legs were giving up in supporting you.

A little drool streak escaped the corner of your lips, connecting to the space underneath you. Your hair was pulled back with a mild yank, forcing your spine to arch. The Fibonacci sequence would draw perfectly in the curvature of your flexible spine. One of the many perks of being a spiderwoman.

His frame swallowed you once more as he propped your right thigh on the table, granting him more access to delve in deeper into you.

" Ohmygod" you howled at how full and deep your insides were. He smirked at your words, "I can't... I can't-"

"You are more than capable of taking me, pequeña." A deep thrust and he had you sobbing, "Don't disappoint me now."

He rasped in blown inhales.

Your brain was melting just like your body. Instead of unceasing and swift slaps of flesh, steady and rhythmic plunges filled in the void space. Your mouth did nothing but nonsensical gabbling. Occasionally praising him with a coherent lewd curse or a whine.

Eyelids drooped a bit too low as your mouth went completely ajar, exhaling weakly. The weight of his frame pressing against you, slotting perfectly on your back. His hips dug into yours remorselessly, then you felt his arm hooking underneath your lower belly in a possessive embrace, letting the once punished breasts to bounce freely as he pounded relentlessly into you.

The second he skimmed on your tender skin, your body went taut and your brain shut off for a second, overheated by the mind shattering orgasm crashing over you. Only then your body was allowed to go limp on his arms, but that didn't stop him from giving a few more core shaking thrusts before emptying himself inside you. Flooding your womb with his hot load.

"Mi...Michael-" You croaked almost imperceptibly at the canvas he was making out of your insides.

Oh the joy of knowing he'd have a superior offspring made his wicked brain tingle. A malicious laugh escaped him upon admiring your current state. Fucked out and full of him, to the brim like he had promised. Michael Stone was a man of word.

When he had poured the last drop of cum inside, he pulled out to pick himself up. Underwear and pants secured back on his waist. His discarded lab coat covered his upper frame once more, body too heated to keep adding layers of clothing. He released the handcuffs off your wrist and caught you before your body slumped on the floor.

He rewarded your outlasting with a deep yet brief smooch, which you recoiled from. It didn't matter. You'd learn to tolerate his presence soon enough.

His arms carried you like a ragdoll. A doll that somehow still refused to be tamed, adding more dry bones to the raging obsession fire. You struggled from his grip but he didn't budge, a cruel laugh met you instead as he waltzed you to an empty room. Naked with jelly-like legs that didn't cooperate, angry and fearful and powerless.

He tossed you onto the bed and marched back towards the entrance. Proud of your lack of strength to retaliate and cunt full of his cum. His seed would do it's job soon enough. He had waited years, a bit more won't hurt him.

The thought of your belly rounding up with his child made his deep gaze to lock on you over his shoulder for a moment.

"Welcome to my world, querida." His cheeks spreaded in a wicked smirk before disappearing into the light, locking you out from freedom and hope.

Darkness drowned you, like his obsession. Dr. Michael Stone had finally achieved a breakout in his investigation. And he had no intentions of letting you go. Not until you produced the many heirs he had in mind.

[rhys-writes-some-shit]

Cuddles

Alastor x Reader (QP)

You were always respectful of the fact that Alastor didn't like physical touch that he didn't initiate. You never asked why, never tried to force him otherwise, never even considered trying to touch him without his consent. This remained true for all the years you'd known him.

But sometimes it got really fucking difficult.

After a long day of work, then chores, then helping with the hotel, you were absolutely exhausted. And you still had dinner to look forward to. As much as you loved Al, his need for dinner formality really got on your nerves sometimes. At least the food was good.

Luckily, there was a little time where you could escape to your room. Closing the door behind you, you kicked off your shoes and dramatically collapsed onto the bed. As soon as your body hit the mattress, you wanted to stay there for the rest of eternity.

But that wasn't an option.

Groaning, you decided it wouldn't hurt to close your eyes for a moment. Besides, Alastor would want you to be lucid for dinner. Closing your eyes for a second would help.

"Ah, there you are." Distantly, you heard Alastor poke his head in the room. "I would like your input on supper, if you don't mind."

Unable to muster words, you made some unintelligible noises into the bed, curling up more with the blankets. Alastor's footsteps were muffled by the carpet, so you didn't know he was standing right next to you until he spoke.

"Seriously, darling, it is much too early to be sleeping. Don't be so dramatic."

A hand fell on your shoulder, probably to try and take the blankets off you. However, in your half-awake stupor, you shifted to grab the hand, pulling it towards you in an effort to pull some comfort out of it.

Your brain didn't compute what you'd just done for a full 30 seconds, until, suddenly, it hit you. Despite your exhaustion, you immediately let go of Alastor's hand and jerked to a sitting position.

"Al, I'm so, so sorry," you said, your voice sounding more tired than anything else. You ignored the way your eyes kept trying to close, Alastor's figure being nothing more than a red blur in front of you. "I didn't mean to. Give me a minute, I'll be down to help."

Alastor hummed, the contemplative hum you've learned to differentiate over time. Vaguely, you were aware that Alastor's smile softened a bit.

"I can spare ten minutes," Alastor finally said. "Move over, if you please."

You stared at him, blinking tiredly, struggling to understand what was happening.

Expectantly, Alastor motioned to the bed. "Nine minutes and thirty-five seconds."

Then it kicked in. Hastily, you moved over to the other side of them bed, giving enough room for Alastor to sit down with his back against the headboard.

Blankets curled around your shoulders, you sat there, hesitating.

"You may." Alastor answered the unspoken question. "For eight minutes and fifty-two seconds."

It was impossible to deny the smile that grew on your face as you crawled into Alastor's lap, resting your head on his chest and closing your eyes. Gently, Alastor wrapped his arms around you, holding you.

Wrapped in blankets, leaning into Alastor's solid body, the darkness behind your eyelids enveloped you. It felt like you were floating, just your and Alastor, and nothing could ever harm you ever again. As long as you kept your breathing steady, everything would be okay.

Everything would be okay.

You were right; just closing your eyes for a few minutes helped immensely. It was even better that it was spent with one of your favorite people in all of Hell. And if Alastor "accidentally" forgot to keep track of the time, extending your cuddle for an extra two minutes, you weren't going to say anything.

[anantaru]

I HATE EVERYONE BUT YOU

— ꒰ synopsis ꒱ — scaramouche has always been yours, yet he needs you to know that you'll always be his no matter what— even when you get all flustered while he shows you.

— ꒰ a/n ꒱ — in scaramouche we what?

— ꒰ wordcount ꒱ — 1.7k

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ns]fw, fem! reader, jealous! reader, dom scara, rough sex but very passionate, scara hates everyone but you, slightly possessive scara, spitting, cumming inside of you

"you have nothing to worry about,"

"stop thinking about it and look at me," fingers gracefully trace on your bare skin, "because i need you to realize," drawing all sorts of shapes into your searing flesh, like subtle curves into your ribs, "that you'll never get rid of me," and lines dragging across your stomach when scaramouche's hand ultimately settles on your hips.

your stomach does flips at his words, and a fresh tide of relief cuts through your initial doubts. he grins and clicks his tongue, eyes dancing with amusement when he catches your shyness, "hm? what's up with you? where's this pretty voice of yours now?" and that smile, ugh, he cannot help himself but irritate you abundantly, especially when he knows how you'd react to his words.

"shut up," you hiss, "don't do that,"

"do what?" he cocks a brow, "—that?" he breathes, boldly as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles. the fire in his eyes was hard to miss and when he feels your body react to his loving trace, he's more than happy to indulge in those waves of lust— most notably show you that he'll never go away.

"fuck—" you whine, "you're mean," and you find out that his thoroughly chosen words would end up adding fuel to the looming wildfire burning between you both, the two of you high on the tension and rush smoldering the air.

and scaramouche's confessions were driving you into a spiral.

"careful there," he coos, "take it slow," for him, there was no competition, and even if there was a competition, you're not in it. you're above everything. you're perfect, no one could ever set his heart ablaze like you did.

scaramouche hums, "you're stuck with me." he candidly bites down on your bottom lip, "okay?" when you nod vigorously at him, your hips leaving the bed as your back arches into his digits, your hands finding immediate comfort in his hair as you tug softly at his roots to press his lips on yours.

scaramouche was pretty when he looked at you like that, kissed you like he needed you to survive— dreamily while flushed, his cheeks seething with scarlet redness when he inhales deeply for a moment.

but he's not used to all of this, and he didn't like the fact that you could become jealous sometimes— after all, humans suffer more in imagination rather than in reality, and you have nothing to worry about, scaramouche certainly thought he made that very much clear.

but he's embarrassed, although not because of the fact that he might've gotten too close to someone who wasn't you and experienced regret, which, in fact, wasn't possible.

he simply cannot stand anybody besides you.

truth be told, he's a little annoyed that you forgot about the fact that he wasn't a big talker per se, he even actively chose his schedule so he wouldn't see a lot of people, or anyone for that matter. scaramouche never sought out to make any meaningful friendships with the people of the akademiya as well— despite the god of wisdom helplessly attempting to push him out of his comfort zone.

with that out of the way, the real reason as to why scaramouche was embarrassed was quite silly, because it's due to what your jealousy did to him— fuck, he finds it beyond attractive, yet he refuses to acknowledge that a special heat conquered his chest like that, reaching his groin until he couldn't think straight.

there's a delicate challenge in your ways of reacting when he tells you that you mustn't be jealous, and scaramouche drinks it like water— he knows you're everything he's ever wished for, like ice cream on a hot summer day, you're melting his heart.

he nuzzles into your skin to inhale your scent, leaves soft kisses on your cheekbones while holding your jaw, making you look directly at him.

does he need to show you that he's utterly addicted to you? so, do you require it like a challenge of sorts? because archons, he'll do it, easy work easy done.

to note, it's not scaramouche's fault that people want to talk to him and are curious about the new addition to the akademiya— yet he doesn't like them, it's pestering when they get too close to him as well, ask if he could talk a little more about where he was coming from because they wanted to be nice, civil but end up making him scoff with a roll of his eyes.

enjoying his own company was fine to scaramouche— and he always found himself fantasizing about you all the time, particularly about your soft laughs and candid smiles, your voice, your stories and your understanding was like a sweet melody to the wanderer, and he could indulge in it during his breaks, before he needed to finish a mission, or he could imagine it every single night before he'd fall asleep to the thought of you.

your body was rubbing against his now, sweat colliding as he removes his fingers from your cunt and wraps them around his erection, pretty dark lashes accentuating his flaring cheekbones while you loop your arms around him— parting your legs a little so he could easily slide himself in.

scaramouche gently adds pressure on your tight hole before moving his hips, but it's slow— gentle and delicate that you can feel every crevice of his length in you.

a soft moan rips from his throat as you mold around him easily, feeling him attentively as he traces the thick vein along the side of your walls as your hips twitch at the slight sting deep in your abdomen.

scaramouche was as desperate as ever to show you his love through physical attention— and the word shame didn't seem to find a place in his phraseology when he forces your gaze back under his. "open and stick your tongue out," he taps, once twice, against your lips with his thumb, "wanna taste me, right? so do it now," while keeping his throbbing dick buried inside as he purposefully moves his hips a little to make you squeal.

you cannot help the way your lips curve into a smile before you're parting your lips, applauding his efforts to claim you. it's merciless when he bundles the saliva budding in his mouth before spitting on your tongue, his crystalline eyes open to catch your tremble— how can he not indulge in this? you're nothing short of perfect, pleading for him to give you more.

"show me," he commands further, groaning deep into his chest when he looks at his saliva melting with your own and how it's dribbling from your chin, his length twitching rapidly as you try to steady your breathing at the sinful scenario you're living through.

scaramouche's hands clench at your waist as he fucks you as passionate as he can, his cock pressing against the overstimulated bud in your pussy before starting slow circles with his hips, your mouth huffing out candid i love you's amidst your moans.

inch by inch he slides into you, in and out in rapid movements, the more you take the better it felt having him rub your pleasure spots he so desperately desired to feel suck on his shaft and milk the cum out of his cock. he finds it cute when your face suddenly scrunches up if he moves faster than previous, your jaw parting in awe at how much better it felt the more he upped his tempo to batter your sore pussy.

it feels good— it always does, and if being a little jealous here and there would always result in this, than you'd gladly play your part as much as he needed it. it's almost like you don't hear yourself moaning and spell out honeyed praises, too occupied to indulge on the way scaramouche rolled along your walls and the noises of his balls colliding on your skin over and over.

"fuck— you're gonna make me cum fast," scaramouche gasps, dragging his sensitive cock through you like you're made for him, as if it just fits and he doesn't need to prep you, which he in fact, really enjoyed doing as well.

frankly, nothing tasted as good as your pussy rubbing across his mouth.

one hand leaves your hips before he gives your clit a little attention, pressing through the curtains that protected your sensitive pearl as he rubs your slick over the sensitivity, smirking devilishly when you arch your back off the mattress and begin to shake, your walls spasming while being so perfect when milking his cock, your pussy dripping with slick as he toys with your clit.

you cry out a sound between a broken sob and sharp moan of his name and that's when scaramouche knows you're close too— swift when he drags his hand from your clit to intertwine his digits with your own as he fucked you into the bed, your pussy pulsing around him as your eyes scrunch shut when you reach your high, falling slack against the bed and whining out shortly when he warms you with the weight of his body.

"fuck— shit!," his hips faster, his breath quicker, "you're fuckin mine, mine, mine," scaramouche falls apart,  panting against your ear and groaning lowly, his erection pulsing while constricted by your walls as he holds his cock deeply buried in you before thrusting back and forth once, twice, three more times as he spills his load into your pussy— his warm seed setting your belly on fire by how perfect it felt to be claimed in such lewd, passionate way.

"fuck," he breathes, "gonna stay like that for a bit,"

archons, it's so sticky— borderline filthy and shameless with every intention of it being like that. your tits were still bouncing up and down from the following, last thrusts of him pumping his precious cum into your hole and making sure not a single drop gets lost midway.

after a while of collecting your breathing and turning it evenly again, you giggle out, finding his darkened hair strands as you greet him with a wet, sloppy kiss, "wanna join me for a shower later?" you mumble, eyes half-lidded as he hums softly into your lips, "mhm, or i'll decline so you'll get mad at me, right?"

"i will bite you," you threaten, shaking slightly as he pulls himself out without warning to expose his drenched cock being weaved with your slick, the filthy mixture dripping along your inner thighs,

"please do, "i'm counting on it," scaramouche ends with a wink.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[ranger-kellyn]

finally have most boxes opened from everything my parents brought me! \ovo/ I'm struggling to find a place to display everything. i forgot just how many knickknacks i had boxed away-- but even in the mess of it all, it's...nice having all my stuff back :')

[hoshigray]

MAPPA gave Nanami such beautiful hands that they never fail to make you feel things.

a/n: Bye, the trailer JUST came out, and I can't get over how good they made Nanami, so I'm writing out this to put myself together. @satoruhour pushed me on to write this so ty swee-T-pie, love u sm 💓 this is just like when they released that hidden inventory trailer and i drooled over Toji's hands help 💀 so yeah this is just me writing a short smthn for kento's hands, sorry not sorry. also tysm for 1.9k!!!

cw: Nanami x fem/afab! reader - first soft then smutty, so minors DNI - h@nd h0lding - soft dom! Nanami bc yes - fingering (f! receiving) - hand kink (ig?) - fingers in reader's mouth - pet names (angel, love, sweet girl) - praise - clitoral play - you and Nanami in a cute domestic relationship ♡

wc: 950

You love Kento Nanami's hands. It's no secret to yourself because it's the truth. But you can't blame yourself; you can't help it! There are so many moments with him where you can't help but admire the man's big hands, and honestly, it's embarrassing at this point. It's a guilty pleasure that makes you feel such pleasant emotions, makes you want him more and more.

Even before the two of you expressed courtship, there were days when you'd encounter and have idle chitchat with the stoic man, and those were days that were hard to go through when you had such a tremendous crush on the guy. So much so that you'd drift your gaze away from his feline mocha eyes masked by his eyepiece. Instead, you'd look at his hands, admiring how beautiful and big they are. Aside from his face, they were the only thing visible from his dapper suit. Not that you complained, though. The more you saw and talked with Nanami, the more you marveled at his hands in your thoughts.

And when you two finally started dating, things were going slow and steady. Just as the two of you wanted — no rush at all. But a memory you hold dear to your heart was when the two of you walked home in the cold winter. The chilly breeze sent shivers down your spine, and your nose found breathing tricky in the extreme temperature change. Not to mention you forgot your mittens at home. Just my luck...

However, it wasn't all that bad. After all, your boyfriend (it felt a little weird calling him that) offered to walk you to your place, sticking close to your side, which was a rarity back then. Heat finally found its way up to your cold cheeks when Nanami took the initiative to grab ahold of your hand with his, the size difference making it easy to exchange warmth. "Here," he said so nonchalantly it almost felt like a dream. "Don't want the wind to blow you off the sidewalk." It was such an airy gag from the usually silent man, yet you chuckled and held his hand tighter, the cold overlooked throughout the rest of the walk.

Even watching him doing the most ordinary things is a sight. Whether he's washing dishes, making the bed, or cutting vegetables for the next meal he was cooking for you two, your eyes would always find their way to his deft hands. Rugged palms moving swiftly and gracefully, veins that stem from the back trail upwards to his forearm, and thick fingers with scars so faded with time that you'd have to be very close to see them. You're so in love with him — with his hands. They make you feel safe and secure, warm and loved. Specifically in times when you two are close to each other. Whether it's you resting on his chest as he reads a book while rubbing circles on your back or holding hands with you two walking around the vicinity, it couldn't get any better.

...Well, perhaps now as you're lying on the bed with your back to his chest, succumbing to his touch as one hand cups your cheeks while the other burrows inside your panties — his fingers intruding between your folds and playing with your leaky entrance staining the underwear with your come.

"Ooooh, Kentooo..." You moan to his thick digits in your vulva, scraping your spongey walls that result in high wails. He rubs your cheeks and maneuvers your face to the side so he can lay kisses on your neck, and you melt under his lips with a blissful hum.

"Open your legs a bit more for me, angel." His command is hushed to your ears. You follow his instructions and spread your legs further apart, and he rewards you with another finger added to your chasm. Now both the fore and middle digits slide deep into you, and the brush of his thumb on your clit results in sudden wails. "Good, that's my sweet girl."

His fingers graze your insides expertly, having you writhe on him with how good he's making you feel with just his fingers alone. The speed of his digits increases by the second, and you can feel the wave start rising in your body. Your body jolts with every scrape of his fingertips, pornographic whines fly out your mouth, and your face gets hotter and hotter.

"Haaaah!! Mmnnn...Kento, I'm so close. 'S so close, I'm—Mmmph!?" You don't get to finish that sentence when Nanami stuffs his free fingers into your mouth, your tongue immediately coating the two digits with your saliva.

"Go on, come on me, love." His sweet words were what it took for everything to come crashing down, the fingers in your cunt quicken in pace, and his thumb flicking on your clitoris — causing you to grab onto his forearm. Scratching the clothed limb and heavy pants drawing inward, your cunt clamps around on his fingers as your orgasm comes to pull you in for a euphoric release.

And Nanami lets your body experience the shocks on top of him, laying precious kisses on your temple and cheeks. He slowly removes his digits from your satisfied cunt with a whimper from your puffy lips. "Did so well like always, angel." In your daze, you still share a smile and welcome his lips on yours.

Like you said before — Nanami's hands are your guilty pleasure in more ways than one. And it feels so good to know he reciprocates those desires with mutual love. If such a gorgeous and attentive man can have you under him with just his sheer touch, then so be it.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Good Omens Musical Masterpost🎵❤

How it started :)

Some time before 2013: Vicki Larnach, the australian composer and lyricist, read the Good Omens book, imagined figures dancing on stage with brilliant music and thought, ‘Ah, I’m gonna ask Terry Pratchet and Neil Gaiman if I can turn it into a musical.’ and sent an email to the publishers. The next day she got an email saying, ‘We don’t want a musical but Terry’s coming to Australia, so come and say hello and tell us what you got.’

Rob Wilkins came down to meet Vicki and Jim Hare - Vicki's husband and writer - and took them to meet Terry. They spent an hour and a half with them where Terry asked ‘piercing questions’, had tea with them and they showed Terry a song that Vicki wrote (about the Chattering Nuns). Terry said to Rob, ‘Rob, write and email to Neil, “Dear Neil, this is Terry. I’m sitting in front of two hippies from Sydney and they want to make a musical out of Good Omens and I’m tempted to let them do it.”’ which was the best email they ever heard and then Terry said, ‘Okay, you have me curious.’ - it was because of the Nuns song which sounded like the book. ‘I’m gonna give you six months, come back with a first draft libretto and five songs.’

They then sent it to Terry who sent it to Neil. Terry said, ‘I really like it, you’re moving story, you’re doing all the right things, but where’s showstopper, where’s the toe-tapper, you know I need people to go to intermission just snapping their fingers with the song they just can’t get out of their head, and I haven’t heard that.’ - and they realized that they were so busy serving the story they forgot to do the wow-factor, but found it very encouraging from Terry that he wanted to make it better.

They went through the whole book again to find a centrepiece - and they found it  when Warlock is growing up and Aziraphale and Crowley are with him, and spent months working just on that one thing and called ‘All Living Things’ [the song at the start of this post :)] which is a line from the book.*’ Terry gave that song to a person he knew and asked him to play it to his wife with no context and when the next day the person said that his wife woke up still singing the song Terry said to Vicki and Jim: ‘Well, that’s what I asked you to do.’ 

* [“This here’s Brother Slug,” the gardener would tell him, “and this tiny little critter is Sister Potato Weevil. Remember, Warlock, as you walk your way through the highways and byways of life’s rich and fulsome path, to have love and reverence for all living things.” “Nanny says that wivving fings is fit onwy to be gwound under my heels, Mr. Fwancis,” said little Warlock, stroking Brother Slug, and then wiping his hand conscientiously on his Kermit the Frog overall.]

Vicki and Jim got the permission to being adapting it as a musical in 2013.

Vicki and Jim on it a couple of years ‘fumbling about’, took it as far as they could and decided to bring another person into it: Jay-James Moody

In 2015, Jay James-Moody joined the collaboration initially as a dramaturge and directorial eye, eventually evolving into co-book writer. Vicki, James and Jay have continued to evolve through countless more revisions and a number of private development readings with the support, time and talent of numerous wonderful Australian performers testing the material.

In November 2017, the musical was presented in its then-current form and entirety for the first time before an audience of over 500 eager attendees. The cast included Luke Joslin, Lachlan O’Brien, Nancye Hayes, Barry Quin, Brett O’Neill, Lauren McKenna, Nicholas Craddock, Paul Capsis, Rob Johnson, Amy Lehpamer, Debora Krizak, Blake Erickson, Nat Jobe, Ana Maria Belo, Jordan Hare, Bella Thomas, Anthony Abrakmanov and Samson Hyland.

Following a rapturous response to this reading it continued to be refined and developed.

In 2019, ten days before the show came out they did their last presentation, since then they’ve been to London and shown a videotape of that workshop to Neil and Rob which was ‘a pretty heartstopping experience’ but both Neil and Rob were ‘so lovely and very generous with their time’ and they were showing it to them and in the intermission Neil said ‘I wish Terry could have seen this.’ (see here :))

Differences between the musical and the book

The ending of the musical is a bit different, they were worried about it but Neil said, ‘I totally understand, the ending of the TV series is different, because I had something that was book-shaped and I needed to make it TV-shaped. And you had something that was book-shaped and you needed to make it stage-shaped.’

It opens with the burning of Agnes Nutter and Aziraphale and Crowley are introduced there. 

Act One ends with them ‘essentially breaking up’ because of a huge argument and they dissolve their friendship, Act Two starts with the first time they meet.

The Future?

What is the future for the musical: in 2021 they said that they need to work on some things and then they hope to do another run, initially in Australia.

There will be a CD of the soundtrack available when the show is produced in it’s full version.

Videos

Vicki, Jim and Jay talking 46min about the musical (this video was shown at the Ineffable Con 3 in 2021 :))

Sizzle Reel 6min

Anathema singing The Perfect Place

Crowley calling Dagon to check on the hellhound

Shadwell and Newt

Aziraphale vanishing Hastur 👀

Links

Webpage

Instagram - a lot of more bts videos and pics :)

How to support?

Subsribe to the instagram page and like and comment that you want the musical on posts :)❤. If you want to be a sponsor or donor, there is contact on their webpage.

[churipu]

CALLING THEM "HUSBAND" IN PUBLIC 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, geto suguru x reader

warnings. none :)

note. this was based off the tiktok trend where you call your boyfriend "husband" in public, i forgot this trend existed until it appeared on my fyp again lmao.

GOJO SATORU. the first time he heard the word "husband" escape your throat when you were both standing in a line to order from a fast food chain, he thought he had heard wrong. but, frankly, he didn't really mind at all being called that — in fact, he felt delighted.

"i'll have the cheeseburger B set with no pickles," you tell the cashier before humming out softly, "and my husband will have the double cheeseburger C set, and an ice cream with extra chocolate syrup."

gojo was silent, he lets you speak and order for him. although his heart fluttered as he sways side to side behind you, a flowery aura surrounding him — gojo pays for the food, and grabbed the tray with one hand with no problem at all. happily guiding you to an empty table.

"so . . . what was that about, hm?" he sat across from you, his chin stuck to the palm of his hand. smiling widely.

"what was what about?" you questioned back, taking a spoonful of ice cream before plopping the fluffy texture into your mouth.

gojo eyed you, "oh, you know . . . me being your husband and all," he sings out, brushing the chocolate syrup that managed to tinge the corner of your lips with his thumb — the male brought his thumb towards his lips, swiping his tongue over the chocolate, "not that 'm complaining about it."

you chuckled softly, "'ts a tiktok trend, 'toru."

the male rolled his eyes, "no, it's not. i will marry you one day, i promise."

NANAMI KENTO. he's actually a bit surprised — and speechless at that. the both of you would be in a date, when you got a phone call from one of your friend. initially, you wanted to let the call ring, but you decided to brush that off your mind and answered the call with a thought in mind.

answering the call, you were immediately questioned with a "where are you?"

nonchalantly, you answered her, "me? 'm out with my husband, why?" and nanami who was sitting across from you with a cup of tea — almost choked when he heard your answer. swallowing down the lukewarm tea down his throat, nanami waited patiently until you ended the call to question you regarding it.

he had to wait for the next seven minutes for the call to end, and the moment your phone retracted from your ear, he was quick to follow you up on it, "husband?"

looking at him, you nodded, "is that a problem? would you like me to stop calling you that?"

nanami shook his head with a small smile, "no, no. i liked the sound of it," he mumbles softly, straining back his lips from up-warding by kissing the edge of his tea cup.

"the sound of what? being my husband?"

he nods, "yes. your husband."

GETO SUGURU. oh, believe me when he will be smug about being called "husband" by you. all smiles, the corner of his eyes crinkling lightly as he gazes at you — waiting for an explanation. geto won't say anything because he wanted you to be the one to explain it to him.

both you and geto were out. it was summer. hot, sweaty, and sticky. what else would be better than an ice cream about now?

geto went out his way to approach an ice cream truck, telling you to go find shade as he gets the sweet treat for you both to enjoy. but when he came back — there you were, sitting on a bench under a shade of a tree, with another boy by your side. someone who is not him.

as he confidently strides over to you, he saw you light up a bit and there you said, "ah, there's my husband."

smug. smug. smug.

he handed you your ice cream, eyeing the unknown male up and down before a slight smirk appeared on his face. that male was nothing compared to him.

"who's your friend, baby?" geto asks calmly, licking his ice cream. his gaze intent on the male's eyes, not breaking the contact. he didn't back down until the stranger walked away nervously, and geto turns to look at you, an arched brow.

"i was in a heap of moment, silly."

he shrugs, "even if you weren't, i'd like you to call me that every time."

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[pineapple-crow]

Alright, heres my rant for the night because I'm tired, cranky, and made the mistake of peeking at the #tradblr side of this hellscape.

I absolutely hate how the shitty alt right fascist conservative bullshit has permeated things that on face value are very much excellent.

Some examples, especially as they relate to me:

Pastel femininity - we're pretty familiar with this though I might be using the wrong term. It's all pastel colors (esp pink), pretty flowers, gold and marble, bows and ribbons, dresses, pretty hair, pretty makeup, and a soft cotton candy cloud aesthetic and shit that evoke the idea of a "soft," "gentle" feminine energy. I love that shit! I don't look like someone who does but I love this aesthetic so much. I think this aesthetic should be enjoyed by anyone regardless of their "usual" presentation or gender expression. AND YET you have these buffoons using it to push "tRaDiTiOnAl WoMaNhOoD" (that's often co-opted with cis whiteness and rejection of the idea that any gender, skin tone, or ethnicity can look gorgeous in pastel pink and roses). Which leads me to my next point...

Cottagecore - just like pastels, cottage core sparks joy in me and I also really love it's representation, especially when combined with the idea of being a homemaker (y'know in that near unobtainable fantasy where all bills are paid for and you can just make bread and weave yarn or whatever). Despite being the current breadwinner in my relationship, I also absolutely love the thought of staying in my own lil cottage and cleaning and doing house upkeep and just baking and shit. Vibing with nature and mindfulness. I DON'T love traditionalist religious nuts (mostly christians but, y'know) who use it to push tRaDiTiOnAl gender roles. No fuck you the moment that shit becomes forced, it's not fun anymore. Anybody should have the freedom to choose to be a homemaker, whether you're a wife/girlfriend, husband/boyfriend, spouse/partner, or That One Friend who has a knack for NOT accidentally making chloroform while cleaning the bathroom! Fuck traditional gender roles and forcing people to be pigeonholed into them without any choice! (And that's not even getting into how toxic it is when it comes to relationships, even hetero relationships! My husband and I realized he was taught how to be a husband (fix cars, fix the house, go to work for the entire day and drink beer/immediately unwind after getting home) but not how to be a partner (help with scheduling appointments, share a portion of the chores, do the chores without being told, other "" womanly"" tasks). That's terrible!)

Heathenry/paganism - SPEAKING OF RELIGION I hate hate hate that I have this constant concern of becoming involved/associated with/platforming white nationalists and Nazis. Fuck Nazis, fuck white nationalists, I have very violent thoughts about them. Heathenry in all its forms, to include Norse Heathenry, is open to all! Not to get too religious but the gods don't care where you or your family comes from! The gods don't care if you're able to stand outside for longer than 10 minutes without turning into a peeling lobster! To use the gods as a method of control or pushing your idiotic hate filled vitriol is to spit on Their image! To say the gods care about whether or not you have 0.01% German/Icelandic/Swiss heritage in your blood is a horribly restrictive box to put the gods in! Not to mention it ALSO gets used to push heteronormative gender roles! Get fucked! I hate that I have to be conscious of my presentation of my faith or else I'll be lumped in with half brain nitwits who smell like weeks old unwashed ass and think their pube face is on the same level as the viking warriors! Tho shit maybe it is who am I to know, fuck bro.

Let me make one point clear. I don't hate that I have to be mindful/critical of the information I absorb, and the actions/words I put out into the world to represent myself. That's okay! That's normal! That should be encouraged! What I DON'T like is the fact that Nazis made some shit up, slapped it on the face of paganism/Heathenry, and have made it so prominent that there is this CONSTANT concern of being lumped in with a group I Do Not Tolerate and, again, have Very Violent Thoughts towards.

Just...aakajsjdjfkgktkd there's so much more I could say on this but I'm really really tired. I didn't think I'd get this heated over it. Anyway I'll finish by saying tradwives/tradhusbands, white nationalists, homophobes, transphobes/TERFS, and Nazis can go shove a pineapple up their asses.

[cherieluver]

Cigarettes After Sex. (Johnnie Guilbert x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 1091?

Warnings: smut, alcohol use, smoking (reader is 21+)

8:15 PM

You just arrived at the party as you grabbed your bag and walked up to the door. Breathing nervously, you stepped inside and looked around. You knew some of your friends were there but weren't sure where to find them. 

After looking around, you walked over to the open bar to get a little drunk. There was music blasting in your ears, and the house seemed like a maze. After downing two shots of Pink Whitney, you looked around to see if there was anyone you could talk to, but couldn't find anyone you knew. 

Eventually, you ended up in the bathroom just to fix your hair and makeup and stepped back outside. Walking into the living room, someone caught your eye, some guy was sitting on the couch with a beer in hand. You adjusted your dress and fishnets while slightly stumbling over to the couch. As you sat down, he looked you up and down with a blank expression. Awkwardly, you cleared your throat and looked away from him while fidgeting with your bracelets.

"So..." the guy said while tapping his fingers on his beer glass, "You can't find anyone to talk to either?" He asked as he looked over at you on the opposite side of the couch. "Yeah, basically." you sighed, "I have some friends that are here, but I have no clue where they are," you said with disappointment. "Well, I'm about to get another beer if you want to come with me," he said as he stood up. "Sure!" you said a little too excitedly while your heart raced. 

As you got to the bar you made small talk and found common interests. "Oh I forgot to ask, what's your name?" he asked while smiling a bit. "Oh I'm Y/N," you said with a sigh, "What about you?". "I'm Johnnie," He said and took a quick swig of his beer.

After chatting for a bit more you and Johnnie went to go explore the house. For such an introverted person, Johnnie seemed to open up easily to you, but the beers helped out with that. After some time, the two of you ended up in an unused bedroom. You and Johnnie were laughing when Johnnie got a call. "What's up, man?" He said on the phone, "No, y'all can leave without me, I'll catch an Uber later." Johnnie slurred, "Okay, bye Jake," He said as he hung up the phone. 

The room was filled with a comfortable quiet. Johnnie was looking at you as you lay on the bed together with nothing left to say. Slowly Johnnie reached his hand out to hold your cheek. "Is this okay?" He whispered as he was about to lean in. "Almost perfect," you mumbled as you smiled and leaned into a kiss. 

You pulled back but looking into each other's eyes for a few moments made you both realize how much you needed each other. Johnnie put his hands on your waist and leaned into another kiss, this one being more heated and lustful. 

After a few moments into the kiss, Johnnie pulled away, "fuck..." he mumbled under his breath. you looked confused and said, "Do you not want to..." Johnnie interrupted before you could even finish your thought, "No, I do want to,". You got tired of Johnnie's hesitation and both sat up as you started taking off your dress. Johnnie looked shocked for a moment then started taking off his clothes. You threw your dress on the ground as Johnnie did the same with his shirt, leaving him in only his pants and boxers. 

You took the initiative and kissed Johnnie while guiding his hands along your body, first grabbing your waist and then moving down to your ass. you let go of Johnnie's hands and let him touch wherever he wanted to. As the kiss broke, Johnnie looked down at your cleavage, "Take it off for me," you said in a raspy voice. Johnnie looked flushed and mumbled, "Okay..." as he unclasped your bra and continued to kiss you. 

As you were kissing, Johnnie's hands traveled to your breasts and played with your nipples as you moaned into the kiss. Your hands moved down Johnnie's torso as you slowly started to unbutton his pants. "Yes," Johnnie moaned into the kisses. You moved to his lap after you took off his pants and started palming him through his boxers as your bare chests touched. 

Johnnie let out a needy moan which immediately made you look up at him. His hair was messy and his makeup was smudged but, god, it looked sexy. You could feel your heart pounding as Johnnie took off your fishnets and underwear. Johnnie inhaled sharply as he saw you fully and took off his underwear just as quickly. With your approval, he moved his fingers down to your folds and started stretching you out. Moaning out of pleasure, you said, "I'm ready" as he licked his fingers and leaned back onto the pillows. 

You slowly leveled yourself down onto his length as you sat to adjust yourself for a moment. You gave Johnnie the look of 'okay', so he began to slowly thrust into you. With every thrust, he let out a small grunt, but as he went faster they slowly turned into moans. At this point, you both were sweating and your legs started to get tired so Johnnie decided to flip you over. You wrap your legs around him as he thrusts into you, panting and whining. You felt yourself coming closer to the edge and could tell Johnnie was too. "Fuck, fuck..." Johnnie moaned as you came and he was on the edge. Your knees buckled as he quickly pulled out of you and came on your stomach as his eyes rolled back. 

Luckily, there was a connected bathroom so Johnnie put his boxers back on and went to grab a towel and a cup of water while you slipped your underwear on. Johnnie wiped off your stomach and you sat back, leaning on the headboard as Johnnie from his pants. He pulled out two cigarettes and opened a window as he lit one. He handed you one and lit it as you held it in your mouth, taking a heavy breath of the smoke. You gave Johnnie a peck on the lips as he went to sit down next to you. 

"Cigarettes after sex, hm?" You sighed as you looked over at Johnnie as he smiled at you.